


murphy's quantum law

by whoknowswhereweare



Category: The SpongeBob Musical - Various/Anthony & Coulton/Jarrow
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Multi, Sharing a Bed, Trapped In Elevator, Tropes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-03-23 18:17:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13793403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoknowswhereweare/pseuds/whoknowswhereweare
Summary: anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.(or; the collection of cheesy fanfic tropes starring the team of tres that nobody asked for)





	1. the bed

**Author's Note:**

> this is literally just a collection of fanfic tropes i found on tumblr starring our three heroes.  
> if you have any suggestions TELL ME!!!!!! i'll basically write anything tbh

"Well, here we are, gang!" Bobby said, stepping off the bus. "Shell City."

"Mermaid Man Convention, here we come!" Patrick cheered. "Thanks for joining us, Sandy."

"Sure thing, boys." Sandy said. "I do love me a road trip."

"C'mon, let's go check into the hotel." Bobby suggested. "It's getting sort of late, and I wanna be up bright and early for the convention tomorrow!"

* * *

"Well, this can't be right." Sandy  _tsked_ , looking into the hotel room- one king bed across from a dresser. 

"I'm positive I booked two twins and a futon." Bobby shook his head, dismayed. "How did this happen?"

"I'm sure it's just a mix up." Sandy said gently. "Patrick'll get it sort it out."

As if on cue, Patrick burst back into the room. "Good news and bad news." He said. "Good news is, they're sorry for the mix up and aren't gonna charge us for the room. Bad news; they're all booked up and can't put us in another room."

Bobby's shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, guys." He said. "I was just trying to give us a good vacation."

"Don't be sorry!" Sandy immediately jumped in. "It's not your fault."

"Yeah, we'll get it figured out." Patrick agreed. He stood and examined the room before pulling the blankets on the bed down and plopping himself into the center of the bed, arms outstretched to his sides. "Snuggle up, buttercups."

"Huh?" Both of his friends blanched.

"Come on, I'm basically a big pillow. We can all snuggle up, put on a movie or something. I don't mind sharing the bed if you guys don't."

Sandy chuckled through her nose and put her bag down against the wall. She unbuttoned and removed her flannel overshirt and layed down on Patrick's right side. She was stock still on her back for a moment until Patrick curled his arm in, forcing her head onto his chest. They both laughed, becoming more comfortable with the situation.

"Come on in, Bobby, the bed's fine!" Sandy chuckled, and Patrick waved him over with his left hand (his right was still holding Sandy in place by her waist). The small boy gulped in a slight anxiety- this was not something he had ever foreseen himself having to do. Of course, he'd slept in the same bed with Patrick multiple times during sleepovers, and had fallen asleep with Sandy on the couch once or twice, but the past few years those nights had been full of inner turmoil for the fry cook; his heart getting all aflutter each time Patrick would casually toss an arm around him when he tossed and turned or choking up when Sandy once whispered his name in her sleep.

"You comin' or what?" Patrick asked. "We don't have all night."

"S-sure." Bobby tried to appear nonchalant, though he could feel his face burning with blush. He toed off his shoes and gently climbed into bed on Patrick's left side, where he was subject to the same treatment as Sandy, his head falling onto Patrick's chest. Deciding to just go along with it, he put his arm on Patrick's stomach, and was surprised to feel Sandy's own had wrap around his. His pulse sped up, and he felt pleasantly nauseous with excitement. Sandy pulled the comforter up around them and sat up to turn the lights out.

"Sleep tight, boys." Sandy yawned. Patrick treated them both to a quick peck on the forehead and the two closed their eyes.

In the light of the city shining in from the window, Bobby, the only one still awake, studied their faces. There was no two ways about it- he was in love with his two best friends. And now he was expected to remain the saint as he slept in the same bed as them.  _Snuggling._

He was glad that Sandy was asleep, so she couldn't feel his hand sweating.

He was in for a long night.

 


	2. the elevator

It's shaping up to be one of  _those_ days- one of the days where it feels like the whole world's against her, like she's swimming upstream and the current is about to sweep her up and wash her away. She's still new in town, so she spent much longer than she should have searching for her apartment building, leaving her dripping from the torrential rain that had begun pouring during her second class of the day. So, she's soaked to the bone, freezing cold, her feet feel like they're going to fall off, and she's exhausted. She thinks to herself,  _Sandy, what have you gotten yourself into here?_

She breathes a sigh of relief when she steps into the elevator, hitting the button for the twentieth floor. She closes her eyes and waits for the door to close. She's so close, so close to a shower, to a warm meal, to her comfy, comfy bed. She can almost feel it, and a little thrill hits her when she hears the  _ding_ of the elevator, indicating the doors are about to slide shut.

"Wait!" A voice pierces the peace. "Hold the door, please!"

Sandy rolls her eyes, but quickly shoots her arm out in front of the door to keep it from closing- even on her worst days, she's not cruel. In rushes two boys, maybe two or three years her junior. One is tall and rotund with a quiff of light pink-ish hair and a lazy, laid-back smile, and the other is nearly a foot shorter than him, with curly red hair and a happy-go-lucky face. They're just as drenched as her, but they're smiling wide, almost laughing through breaths as they look between Sandy and each other.

"Thanks a bunch." The shorter says breathlessly. He doesn't bother to turn around to hit the button for the sixteenth floor.

"No worries." Sandy smiles a little. She pulls her lilac jacket tighter around her, wiggling her toes within her boots, lamenting the feeling of wet socks.

The elevator begins it's ascent, and they nearly reach the ninth floor before the cab jumps, drops a few feet, knocking all three from their feet, and the lights go out. A loud bell alarm rings for a long few seconds and then shuts off. The elevator is silent and pitch black for a moment, and then the flashlight on the larger man's phone turns on, providing some light. He places it in the middle of the floor, so that everyone can see.

"Is everybody okay?" The shorter asks.

"Fine." The larger replies. He nudges Sandy's leg with his foot. "You alright?"

"Yeah." Sandy sighs. She crawls over to the button pad and hits the emergency button.

* * *

It's a half-hour later, and they're still waiting for help. They've theorized that the power outage is likely due to the storm. Sandy is introduced to Patrick (the large man) and Bobby (the shorter one), a pair of best friends who have lived four floors below her since long before she moved in. They're almost nauseatingly nice, making a genuine effort to include her in conversation and regale her with stories from Bobby's job at the local grease spot. When her shivering became visible, Patrick pulled a pink floral windbreaker from his backpack and happily handed it to her. It was a bit damp, but better than nothing.

"How are you guys not freezing?" She asks, incredulous.

"We've lived here all our lives." Bobby shrugs modestly. "We're used to it."

"So where are you from?" Patrick asks.

"Texas." She answers. "So, I'm not quite used to the frozen rain y'all have here." They all share a chuckle.

And it goes on like that for a while longer, each of them sharing anecdotes from their lives, getting to know each other. After another half hour passes, Sandy knows that Patrick holds the town record for most milkshakes consumed in one day, and that Bobby's prized possession is his lucky spatula, that the two met at summer camp in second grade while fishing and have gone fishing once a months ever since; and they now know that she's in school studying chemical engineering, that her favorite colour is purple, and that she has a scar on her right ankle from when a horse bucked her when she was nine, and her foot got caught in the stirrup. She's having a hard time being miserable anymore.

"-But anyways, yeah, that's how we ended up performing a halftime show at a football game." Bobby laughs as he finishes his story. Patrick is laughing so hard that his face is red, muttering something about mayonnaise and 'big, meaty claws' through giggles.

"That's hilarious." Sandy laughs along. "Jeez, where's the fire department? We've been stuck in here for over an hour."

"I'm sure they're almost here." Patrick pants, calming down from his laugh fest. "The storm is probably making traffic crazy."

"I just wanna get home." Sandy says. "I'm exhausted. I wanna go to bed." A yawn comes out against her will.

"You tired?" Bobby raises his eyebrows. "C'mere." He scooches away from Patrick a little, patting the space on the floor between them. She looks at him questioningly, and the two boys look back instantly. Normally she would have declined, but a) she's grown to not only like but trust these guys, and b) she's pretty tired anyways. She shuffles over and sits between them. Patrick stretches his arm across her shoulder and pulls Bobby towards the center, squeezing Sandy in the middle. Bobby lays a head on her shoulder, and her head falls against his, her cheek buried in his hair. It's strangely comforting, and she kind of hopes that the fire department takes a while longer. It's not long before she falls asleep.

* * *

All three are woken up when a loud banging comes from the top of the elevator door. They remain in their snuggled-up position as the doors are wrenched open. It's clear they're stuck between floors, and the rescue team is on the upper, so the boys hoist Sandy out first, then Patrick lifts Bobby out, and together, Bobby and Sandy pull out Patrick. Teamwork.

They climb the stairs up the the sixteenth floor. "This is us." Patrick says.

"Hell of a day, hey boys?" Sandy chuckles. She's still kind of waking up, having slept deeper than she can remember in recent years. She cracks her neck.

"It was great, though!" Bobby exclaims. "We made a great new friend." Patrick nods earnest agreement.

"Well, I should get going," She gazes towards the staircase, dreading the four-story climb. "It was real nice meeting you two."

"Yeah, see you around?" Patrick asks.

"For sure, for sure." She nods, but nobody moves. They stand in the hallway, searching for any excuse to remain.

Finally, Patrick speaks. "Y'know, Bobby is a great cook. He was gonna whip something up for dinner, do you wanna join us?"

Bobby's eyes light up, and he nods excitedly. "Yeah! You totally should."

Sandy pretends to consider for a moment before a smile spreads across her face. "I'd love that." She agrees. They turn to walk down the hallway, and she steps in between them, taking both of their hands in hers.

 

 


	3. snowed in

It seemed to Patrick an avant-garde idea; to drive all the way up to Montana for just one weekend. The drive there alone was eighteen hours, and Patrick felt more or less wrung out when he woke up in the backseat, the car pulling down a gravel road. The sound of the crackling pebbles under the wheels of the car was muffled by something softer, something laid over the ground like protection.

When he sat up, it came to his attention that they were driving through the midst of a heavy blizzard.

"Are you sure this is safe, Sandy?" Bobby asked, the slightest bit of concern colouring his tone. Patrick shared his worry, as Sandy's pickup swerved across the road, though they couldn't have been doing more than 30.

"You bet." Sandy nodded, her grip at 10 and 2 tightening until she was practically white-knuckling the steering wheel. "I used to come up here every winter. I  _learned_ to drive like this."

"How far away is this cabin?" Patrick asked, gazing out the window at the flurry of white passing them by.  _This is kind of a dumb idea for a vacation,_ he thinks, but he'd never say that out loud. Bobby would shrink, and Sandy would probably hit him.

"Not that far off, now." Sandy said. "We'll be there shortly."

* * *

The drive proved to be well worth it, though, when they arrived at their little vacation spot. Dropped at the base of the mountains, tucked in between a tall many evergreens that seemed to provide a sort of gate, was a sweet little wood cabin.

"Here we are." Sandy said proudly, stepping out into the snow. "My Uncle Skeeter's cabin. He used to live here full-time, but nowadays he only comes up to fly fish in the summer. He lives just a few towns over now, closer to the border. He said we can use the cabin as long as we like."

"Awful nice of him." Bobby remarked, pulling his bag from the trunk.

"Let's get inside, it's freezing out here." Patrick shivered. Sandy chuckled and tossed him the key while she helped Bobby with the bags.

Inside the cabin was as country homestyle as he had expected- thick knitted afghans tossed over overstuffed couches, needlepoint frames decorating the walls, a wood-burning stove in the kitchen. There was even freshly chopped wood in the fireplace.

"It's really nice here, but... what are we supposed to  _do_?" Patrick asked.

Sandy bristled off her coat. "Y'know, enjoy the peace 'n' quiet, get some rest in, cozy up by the fireplace, sing some, read a book." She shrugged. "Relax, really."

"Sounds good to me." Bobby splayed himself out on the couch, arms crossed behind his head.

* * *

They fell asleep shortly after midnight, after a homecooked meal that all three participated in concocting, snuggled up on the couch under a particularly fluffy wool blanket, deep red in hue. They had had every intention of going to bed in their bedrooms, but once Sandy had begun reading aloud from the 1983 Montana almanac (which wasn't particularly interesting, but her voice, soft and sleepy, had lulled the other two into a heavy rest) they had resigned themselves to a night in front of the slowly-dimming fire.

Bobby, the early bird, roused first (the other two joked that he didn't even need his alarm anymore, since he woke up at 7 on the dot anyways). He sat up, pushed his hair off of his forehead (one too many playful noogies from his friends last night left his mop in complete dissaray), smiled lazily at the two still cuddled up on the couch, looking to Bobby like a pair of kittens in a basket. He stood, stretched, shivered when the cold air hit his exposed skin, lit a new fire in the fireplace, and set to work making coffee. He himself didn't drink it, but Patrick enjoyed a morning brew and Sandy practically guzzled the stuff all day long, so he may as well. For himself, a nice big glass of OJ.

Patrick was the next to rise, his exaggerated stretch, like a cat angling for a long nap, waking Sandy as well. She fell back asleep when he stood, and he laughed a little. He didn't exactly know why.

"Morning!" Bobby chirped, scurrying around the kitchen island to deliver a big cup of joe into his best friend's hand. "Three sugar, one cream." He said, even though Patrick knew that Bobby knew how he took his coffee by heart by now.

"Thanks." Patrick yawned, setting down at the table. He watched Bobby bounce around the kitchen, preparing breakfast. The kid had even packed his favourite  _Kiss The Cook_ apron. He looked deep down into his coffee, the near-black liquid telling him what he already knew:  _you were wrong, Star, this is a pretty great vacation._ There was a festive atmosphere brightening the room, and it could only have been coming from the freckled boy, mixing things and pouring batters, occasionally tossing a dimple-heavy smile the way of the larger, who was quite content to sit back and watch. When Bobby leaned up to grab another bowl from the cabinet, the hem of his shirt lifted above his pants, exposing a strip of milky white skin that alonst made Patrick sputter out his coffee. It was nothing he wasn't used to, but...  _still._

Sandy woke up soon, and she drank her coffee in four seconds flat, allowed Bobby to pour her another, then sat next to Patrick, leaning back in her chair until she was almost laying back all the way. Not a morning person.

Bobby served breakfast, waffles with fruit, butter and true north maple syrup. While they ate, they spoke, laughed, complimented the chef. It was a lovely morning.

"Hey, has anyone seen my phone charger?" Patrick asked once the dishes hand been cleaned and put away.

"Didn't you bring it inside last night?" Bobby asked.

"I think so. It's probably still out it the car." Patrick shrugged . "Huh. Me and my brain." He shook his head, making for the door.

And as his two friends sat in opposing armchairs in the living room, Patrick opened the door and came face-to-face with a giant wall of snow. He gently pushed his hand against it, hoping that somehow it was just a thin layer that had blown up against that side of the house in the night, but his palm was met with an icy wall that wouldn't budge.

"Uh, guys, we have a problem."

* * *

"Alright, Uncle Skeeter's on his way to hopefully haul us out." Sandy said, plopping herself on the floor. "But Willow Creek's a ways out, so we might have to hunker down here for a while."

"I'm amazed you got any service." Patrick peeked out the curtain, dissapointed but not surprised to still see nothing but a wall of white.

"Landlines," Sandy shook the little cordless phone in her hand, "They still come in handy, y'know."

Bobby removed his feet from Patrick's lap and went over to the bookshelf on the opposite side of the room. "Anybody have a preference?" He ran his fingers along the spines of the many books that resided there. When he didn't receive an answer, he seemed to decide on  _Peter Pan_ , opened to the first page, and jumped atop the coffee table.

"What are you doing?" Sandy asked, dumbfounded, and Patrick could tell she was barely holding back an eye-roll.

"What, a fella can't regale his two best buds with a tale of swashbuckling heroes?" Bobby chuckled playfully. He motioned for Sandy to take a seat on the couch, so she did, sitting closer to Patrick than he thought he would have liked, but strangely didn't mind. He tossed a portion of his blanket across her lap, and they settled in for what was certain to be a performance for the ages.

* * *

 

"Well, someone remind me to alert the academy." Bobby cheered, clapping in Patrick's direction. He was still on the floor after acting as the croc that stole Captain Hook's hand. 

"Thank you kindly." Patrick gave a bow from bended knee. They all three laughed and somehow, once again, ended up in front of that damn fireplace- Bobby and Sandy sitting side by side, Patrick laid out on their laps. 

"I'll admit it," He said, not turning his gaze from the ceiling, "I had my doubts about this little trip. I thought, 'what fun could we have just chillin' in a little wood house?', but this has been great. Even if we are snowed in."

"Told you." Bobby nudged his side with a pointed finger. Patrick playfully grabbed his hand and yanked him downwards. Bobby was light as air, so it didn't take much of a fight to wrestle him into a lying position beside Patrick. The two burst into fits of laughter, hands still entwined.

"Y'all are so cute." Sandy giggled. "Stay right there, let me get my camera." She jumped up and raced across the space, into her bedroom, and returned a moment later with an old polaroid. She quickly snapped a shot, and began waving the black paper that emerged back and forth. The two boys gathered around her to watch the photo develop.

"Aww, I love it." Bobby smiled, tilting his head thoughtfully. He looked up again, suddenly overcome with an idea. He grabbed the camera out of Sandy's hands and scooted a few feet back. "You two." He gestured for them to get closer together and held the camera up. Sandy scooched closer to Patrick, so that their knees were touching, and she threw her arms around him with abandon, pressing a tender kiss to his cheek.

"Perfect!" Bobby exclaimed as the flash of the camera subsided. They placed that photo on the coffee table to develop. This mini photoshoot continued, Bobby insisting Pat take one of him and Sandy, then squishing all three of their faces together for a slightly blurry one, and then one of Bobby and Patrick pretending to be pirates, and one of Sandy lounging on the loveseat, wide smile gracing her face, one of Patrick with his face buried in the white snow piled up against the door, and a subsequent one of the imprint his face left. 

"Thanks for such a great time, you guys." Bobby smiled from her perch on the kitchen counter, his legs swinging. 

"It was all you, darlin'." Sandy grinned, walking over to him to pat his back.

"I think it was all of us." Patrick said, joining the little circle.

"I agree." Sandy concluded. All three moved in for a group hug, but it was so fast and uncoordinated that they ended up all three bumping faces, noses and foreheads and  _lips_ and all.

"Oh," Someone whispered, but it was so breathless that nobody could tell who. The three of them stood there for a moment in silence before Patrick broke into a grin.

"A pretty great vacation indeed." He said, if only to himself. And if nothing else was clear that day, one thing certainly was: that Patrick Star loved his friends, and they loved him as much as they loved each other, which was a whole lot.

They all shuffled in again, closer, this time not caring what touched where.

 

 

 


	4. home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i saw this (https://78.media.tumblr.com/0c996abf9068806979933085a42f969c/tumblr_p6gypfR8Yq1wxuj6io1_540.jpg) on tumblr and i just.... i mean.... come on. you really thought i wouldn't do THE MOST with that.  
> (also if you guys have any suggestions or tropes you want me to write into this HIT ME UP)  
> (also i got kinda emotional writing this bc i live in the south where all the farms and shit like that are and im gonna b moving away this year so forgive me if this is a little too 'i wish i could go back to texas' (even though im not from texas but w/e its similar enough))

It wasn't what one would call a beautiful day. It was slightly overcast and grey, but not enough to completely cover the blue of the sky, giving it a strange, almost purple-ish hue. It was unusually cold out, and the grass, still brown from winter, was crunchy when stepped on, giving the indication it wasn't going to warm up anytime soon.

Sandy stared out the window of the farm, observing all of this. It was a Saturday morning that, as a child, she would have loved- she and her brother would have rushed out the back door, still in their pyjamas with their mother hollering after them to at least put shoes on because  _dangnabit, y'all are gon' catch your death of cold out there in just yer britches!_ But they would race each other around the acres of land, walking tightrope along the fence to the horse's pen, exploring the woodland that bordered their farm and weaving tales of an imaginary land that existed overtop of theirs-  _yes, the Colossal Crow lives up in those trees, and the fairy king has his kingdom just across the ravine, and there's monsters in that cluster of bushes right there so don't go over there or you'll get eaten._

She had a lot of memories of day that looked just like this one. Memories that, while away, kept her company in the stead of the farm, that comforted her and reminded her, like Dorothy, that there's no place like home.

However, today just wasn't the same. As she sat at the kitchen table peering out the window, she felt almost lost, like a transplant organ being rejected, a flower that had outgrown it's pot. She still loved her hometown, but it just wasn't the same- back in Bikini Bottom, it was always warm and sunny, even when it rained the humidity kept you from getting a chill. Her house back there was on the outskirts of town, but she never felt isolated from the rest of the community; there was always some friend coming over or plans being made. It wasn't like that here, the farm was so out of the way that even a visit from a neighbor was a ten minute drive away.

But the one thing that she noticed most about life on the quiet ranch was the absence of the frequent laughter, high-pitched giggles or a low belly laugh that came from her friends. There had been moments when it had shocked her how accustomed she had become to life with them, so much so that at times she had turned around to ask Patrick to hand her something or to tell Bobby a pun she just came up with, was was legitimately startled when they weren't there.

 _mornin',_ was the text she sent to the group chat,  _you guys awake yet?_

Bobby's response came almost instantly, as was per usual. It was a picture of him at Patrick, sitting on the couch in Bobby' living room, sleepy smiles on faces pressed together for the camera and bowls of cereal raised in a toast.  _Yup! Breakfast and all!_

He sent her a snapchat a few minutes later, of their feet resting on the coffee table. Sandy could tell from their positioning that Patrick was sitting on the far right of the couch, Bobby sitting next to him in the middle. on the far left, where she usually sat, was an arrow pointing to a crying emoji.  _Wish you were home :(_ was the caption.

And that, well. That was just about the sweetest thing Sandy could have imagined. She put her phone down and looked out the window. There was something she was thinking but not admitting to herself, and it was eating her alive.

* * *

After breakfast, Sandy headed out to feed the cows. She observed them standing on the hill, looking almost like a connect the dots picture. She connected one to another until she had a little design, deciding it looked a bit like an oak tree. With the bucket of feed weighing heavily in her hand, she was suddenly struck with a brilliant idea.

Instead of lining the fence with the feed like she usually did, she spread it in the middle of the field in the shape she wanted. Satisfied with her work, she hurried back to the house. The cows were already circling the feed, and when she reached her back door she turned to view her handywork. It had turned out just as she had anticipated- a big brown heart now decorated the side of the hill. Satisfied, she took out her phone and snapped a few pictures and sent them in the group chat

_for y'all!! <3 <3_

"Would you look at that," He dad said when she came inside, "I never would thought of that."

"Just a little somethin'." She shrugged, downplaying how proud she was of her ingeniously thoughtful idea. Her phone pinged with a few messages as she rinsed out the feed bucket, and she couldn't help but laugh when she saw the responses.

_**Bobby:** Are those COWS????_

**_Bobby:_ ** _Sandy. How did you do that_

**_Patrick:_ ** _jeez, get any cheesier and i'll put you on top of my nachos_

She blushed as she told them,  _I put the cow feed in the shape of a heart. Just a lil somethin to let you know I'm thinkin of you!_

 ** _Bobby:_**   _This is the nicest thing ever!_

**_Patrick:_ ** _that's some cute ass yeehaw shit, i can't lie_

_**Patrick:** im giving you a big hug in my mind_

Sandy hugged her phone to her chest, letting herself pretend the warmth was coming from them instead of the device.

* * *

She felt herself sigh in relief when the bus passed the sign welcoming her to Bikini Bottom. She began collecting her things, knowing that the stop closest to her house was right on the outskirts of town and wold be there shortly.

She thanked the bus driver cordially when she exited, and took a deep breath upon stepping on Bikini Bottom ground once again. The walk home was only five minutes, and she was quite surprised to see her two friends standing on her porch, looking sheepishly excited.

"What are you two doin' here?" She asked, resisting the urge to tackle them in hugs. They stepped aside to reveal a heart on the floor of the porch, made up of orchids and daffodils and petunias.

"It's not quite as extravagant as cows on a hill, but... Welcome home!" Bobby gestured to the creation with a grin.

Sandy felt herself warming from the inside out, her cheeks hurting from smiling so hard. "I can't believe you guys." She said, examining the flora in it's hues of purple, yellow and pink. "This is really something else."

"Ooh, and the best part?" Patrick leaned down and grabbed one of the flowers and lifted it. The whole heart followed. "They're fake flowers. We glued 'em to a wire so you can always have it."

Sandy closed her eyes, trying her damnedest not to cry. "Y'all," she choked out, but it was too late, a tear escaped and they were on her, wrapping her in a group hug.

She chuckled to herself, realizing her thought from earlier was correct:  _There really is no place like home._

 

 


	5. the bed, pt. 2 (aka: sick day)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bobby's phone password numerically spells h-e-r-o. im pretty proud of that.

 

 _Come on,_ he wills himself,  _get out of bed. Don't do this._

Gary sits at the edge of the bed and whines; he's yet to be fed. It's Sunday, his day off, and he's woken up feeling like a herd of elephants river danced on his chest and head. A deep, barking cough had nestled deep in his chest, releasing a frankly disgusting amount of mucus every time he so much as clears his throat. He can't breathe through his nose, his eyes are dry, and his throat feels like he's swallowed a cup of salt. He wraps his blanket tighter around him as a chill overtakes him. There's no two ways about it; as Sandy would say, he's sick as a dog.

Now there's someone who will know what to do. He grasps blindly around the bed for his phone (he has a bad habit of falling asleep while scrolling through Instagram and texting at night) until he finds it tangled in the flat sheet somewhere near his knees. Bleary-eyed, he stares at the screen. It's 10:42 AM. He realizes he's been laying around for almost four hours.  _Ew._ He opens his phone with the familiar 4-3-7-6 and opens speed dial, hitting the second name down. She answers just after the first ring, like always.

"Howdy, Bobby!" She's chipper as ever, oblivious to the fact that he's in agony. "What's happening?"

"Sandy, I'm sick." He croaks. "Could you come over and help me out?"

Her voice instantly softens, and he can practically see the concern etching out the lines on her face. "Oh, sure. I'll be right over. Just stay in bed, okay?"

"Thanks." 

Gary waits until he's hung up to whine again. "I know, Gare-bear," He mutters. "Sandy'll be here soon, she'll get it figured out."

He rolls onto his back and closes his eyes, hoping to catch a few more minutes of shut-eye before Sandy arrives. He doesn't get the chance, though, because downstairs he hears the door click open, followed by a crash. He knows it's Patrick, who always forgets not to open the front door all the way because the little table that holds Bobby's keys, wallet, and Gary's leash is right beside it. 

"Hey buddy, you home?" Patrick shouts into the empty floor.

"I'm up here, Pat!" Bobby tries to yell back, but his voice is so hoarse that he gives up on words halfway through and just hopes to make enough sound to alert his BFF as to his whereabouts.

Patrick fumbles up the stairs and crashes into Bobby's bedroom in his clumsy way. He stares blankly at his friend in bed for a few moments. "What're you doing still in bed? I thought we were gonna hang out, it's your day off."

"I would, Patrick, but I woke up feeling just terrible." He props himself up to sit against his headboard, scrubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.

"What, you got the flu or somethin'?" Patrick asks, sliding into bed next to him. He tugs the blanket up onto his lap.

"I dunno, but I feel like I've been run over by a cruise ship." He coughs. 

Patrick stretches out his arms and grunts a little from the exertion. His left arm lands around Bobby's shoulder, pulling him close. He snuggles his head into Bobby's hair, breathing sleepily (beds have always made Patrick tired, no matter the time of day). "'S'okay, we can chill here, yeah?"

* * *

Sandy arrives shortly after, and immediately begins her whirlwind of action in a system neither of the boys understand: she feeds Gary and lets him eat while she puts a pot of soup on the stove, then hurries back upstairs while it cooks to force two extra-strength ibuprofen into Bobby. She sits on the edge of the bed, the back of her hand on his forehead, deciding if he has a fever. All the while Patrick reads funny tweets off his phone, making his friends laugh. The whole ordeal reminds Bobby of being a kid, staying home sick from school. He feels incredibly small and meek, but strangely doesn't mind it right now, because Sandy is looking at him with a soft, sympathetic-if-slightly-worried smile as she tells him that he does, in fact, have a fever, and Patrick squeezes the arm still around his shoulders and jokes that he always knew he was  _hot stuff._

"I'm sorry, you guys." Bobby sniffles over the cup of chamomile that Sandy has brewed specially for him. "I don't want you to waste your day taking care of me."

"Don't be silly!" Sandy exclaims. "We're happy to be here."

"A day spent with you a never a day wasted." Patrick agrees, and for all his bravado he sounds genuinely sincere. He hugs Bobby closer, his body heat satisfying Bobby's sick chills. "We're staying here, whether you want us to or not." He reaches out his fist to Sandy, who bumps it in approval.

(He'd never admit it, but Bobby never wants them to leave- it's a guilty pleasure of his to imagine the three of them living together, to daydream about the possibilities, the dynamic of the whole arrangement. He and Patrick could stay up all night indulging each other in the stupid conversations that often keep them up past midnight when they have sleepovers ("Do you thing birds fall in love?"), he could watch Sandy put on her make-up in the morning and find out just  _how_ her eye makeup manages to be both flashy and subtle, they could share mealtimes and evening and early mornings and he would usher them off to their respective daily activities with a smile and... Well. He wasn't about to let himself go there when they were in the room with him.)

"Hello?" Sandy snaps her fingers near his ear, trying to regain his attention. "Did you hear me?"

"Sorry." Bobby tries to shake out of his daydream. "Dozed off. What'd you say?"

"I said, did you want something to eat? Lunch should be about ready." She says.

"I could go for a bite." He nods enthusiastically. Truth be told, he's starving, and that's probably a good thing because he doesn't feel like he wants to throw up, right?

"Make that two." Patrick Says, and Sandy gives a little salute to acknowledge his request as she ducks out.

Patrick gazes down on Bobby. "You feeling any better?"

"Sorta, yeah." Bobby concedes, though he doesn't admit that the reason is related to the two friends currently fussing over him like he's the most important thing in the world to them.

* * *

Sandy arranges a nice little lunch of tomato soup, grilled cheese and ginger ale ("It'll calm your stomach"), and she and Patrick combine their strength to move the TV into Bobby's room. They them sandwich him in bed while they eat and watch some old TV show that Patrick really loves and begs to tune into. It actually ends up being decent, and between that, the warm food, and the joy of having his two favorite people in the world there beside him, Bobby's feeling worlds better.

"Thanks for this." He gestures vaguely to the set up of TV and plates and bowls in front of him. "You guys are the best, you know. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Aww buddy, you know we'd do anything for you." Patrick has yet to remove his arm from around Bobby, and it's making this funny feeling rise in Bobby's stomach.

Sandy scooches closer. "Yeah, we couldn't let our little buddy suffer alone." She chuckles.

And that's the last moment before everything changes, the final moment before the universe decides that it hasn't thrown enough of Bobby's normalcy under the bus. Sandy goes to peck his cheek, but he turns his head at the last moment, trying to respond to her comment. Her lips catch his top lip, and instantly he feels the blood retreat from his fingers and toes. She looks at him, slightly surprised, before laughing awkwardly, quietly, not like herself. 

"Oh, I see how it is." Patrick jokes, trying to break the tension. "I'll just leave you two be."

"Ugh, shut up." Sandy giggles along, then takes pause a moment, looking at Patrick quizzically. Then she leans across Bobby's lap and quickly smooches him, too, on the lips. "There. Now you're part of it."

"Ah," Patrick breathes, clearly unsure of what to make of it. "Part of it. Yeah." And then he kisses Bobby, harder than he probably meant to and a little hesitant, but pulls away with a knowing and confident look. "Good. We're all part of it."

Bobby remembers to breathe, staring down the length of the bed like it's the barrel of a gun, seeing their feet all resting together like they don't know what just happened. "Guys. You're gonna get sick."

"Eh. Worth it." Patrick shrugs. He shuffles down in the bed so he's laying, preparing for a nap. "We'l just take a sick day, and you can come take care of  _us._ "

The bed is a twin, but curled up against each other, they fit perfectly. They don't nap, instead they lay together, eyes turned ceilingward, still slightly embarrassed at the whole thing as they make playful confessions, telling each other secret fantasies they'd all had of each other, of anything and everything they'd kept bottled up inside for so long because they didn't know the others felt the same. And they kiss each other again, over and over, because they're allowed to do that now, because they don't have to restrain themselves.

Eventually, Sandy and Patrick do fall asleep, their heads on each of Bobby's shoulders, their hands entwined over his chest. It's three PM but Bobby's never felt sleepier. As he drifts off, still listening to the old TV show playing softly in the background, he decides that yes, he does feel much better now.

 

 


	6. slice of life future au

It's a rare morning when Patrick rises first, and for a moment he doesn't even recognize where he is until he sits up and confirms that yes, this is his bedroom in his house and it's just quiet.

He pulls himself out of bed, taking care not to wake the other two who still sleep soundly, tosses on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from the hamper and heads downstairs. Usually he's the last one up; he's used to the house being filled with noise by now- if he thought he was a heavy sleeper before, he had another thing coming a few years down the line. Usually there's the clanging of pots and pans for breakfast, there's a TV show playing (nowadays its the cutesy educational stuff that he's grown to either be completely invested in or tune out completely), probably fighting, laughing, sounds of life. The living room is cold and unfamiliar as he descends, all the lights still turned off. The clock on the stove tells him it's 6:24 in the morning, far earlier than Patrick is used to being awake.

He hears the tapping of feet on the stairs, and then Shelby is sitting at the counter, still in her PJs, her hair unbrushed, but she's bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, waiting for breakfast.

"You're up early." Patrick remarks. "Almost half an hour early, in fact."

"So are you, papa." She negates with a pointed gaze. Patrick doesn't mean to, but he lets out a hearty chuckle at his daughter- she's nine, and too much like her mother; observant and smarter than your average third grader, and though they've tried, they haven't yet gotten her to understand that even though she  _is_ more intelligent than her classmates, some things she should keep to herself, because it's the polite thing to do (Bobby has tried especially hard to drive this point home).

"I am indeed. What do you want for breakfast?" He asks, making for the pantry.

"Waffles?" Shelby suggests. Decisiveness: another trait she inherited from Sandy.

"Waffles it shall be." Bobby surprises them both by hopping down the stairs, and Patrick breathes an inward sigh of relief- he's picked up the basics of cooking over the years, but he's nowhere near the chef his husband is. Bobby gathers Shelby in a hug, crushing her 'good morning daddy' into his sweatshirt, then switches places with Patrick in the kitchen with a little good morning peck. Shelby 'eww's, and her fathers just laugh. Somewhere upstairs the shower turns on, and Patrick picks Shelby up from her seat at the island, making her giggle, and sets her down in a chair at the table, the one with the blue booster seat.

"Anything exciting happening at school today?" Patrick asks, heading to the fridge for the OJ. 

"Ms. Chandler is gonna teach us about monarch butterflies today." Shelby exclaims, and bounces a little in her seat. She's just so  _cute,_ the most precious thing in the world, and Patrick nearly spills the juice he's pouring while watching her. He hands her the cup and she drinks it with a smile.

"Hey- did you brush your teeth yet?" Bobby questions, pointing the whisk at her. "I don't want you to forget."

"I won't, daddy." Shelby rolls her eyes. "Tell him, papa. Mommy says I'm very responsible."

"She's up early anyways, we got time." Patrick ruffles her hair. 

Sandy comes downstairs shortly after, a two-year old on each hip. Sam and Shepherd are almost two, and the source of most of Patrick's entertainment throughout the day- being the stay-at-home dad means he gets to see their toddler antics in real time. Sandy hands Shepherd- no, wait, theres that little mole on his cheek, it's Sam, this one's Sam- to Patrick, and he coos down at his son, who coos back. Sandy leans up and gives him a kiss.

"Good morning, everyone!" Sandy announces- she's typically the one to start the day. She gets a chorus of 'good morning' back, and Shelby is instantly asking for her attention, wanting to know how many more sleeps until their family trip to the zoo (four, for what it's worth).

Bobby comes up behind her and kisses her, taking the squirming infant from her arms so she's free to set the table. Bobby asks Shelby to grab the syrup and whatever fruit she wants from the fridge and bring them over. All the while Patrick just watches his family, wondering how in the world a schmuck like him got so lucky, how someone as simple as him has come to deserve all of this- a loving husband and wife who love each other as much as they love him, three beautiful children, the opportunity to watch them grow every day. He never, ever, in a million year imagined his life would be as good as this.

His whole life flashes before his eyes in a kaleidoscope of landmark moments- the day the so-called 'team of tres' became so much more, the day he and Sandy came home to find Bobby an anxious mess, asking if they'd marry him (and each other of course), their wedding day, the day they decided to start trying for a baby, the day the found out Sandy was pregnant (whether he or Bobby was the biological father was anyone's guess, and that was the way they had wanted it, anyhow), the day Shelby was born, the day they found out Sandy was pregnant again, the day they found out it was twins (Pat had nearly hit the floor when the ultrasound showed two little heartbeats), the day his sons were born. The happiest moments of his life. Every good or bad thing that had ever happened to him led him here, and it was because, that day all those years ago, he let himself be loved and loved unabashedly in return.

"Papa, why are you crying?" Shelby asks, and suddenly everyone else stops what they're doing, turning to face him.

"Oh gosh, what's wrong?" Bobby asks, hurrying to his side.

"Nothings wrong." He lets out a wet laugh, wiping at his face with the hand not holding Sam. "I'm just happy, that's all."

"People cry when they're happy?" Shelby asks, slightly confused. "I thought we only cried when we were sad, or something hurts."

Sandy goes over to her men, wiping away at the wet spots that Patrick missed on his own face and neck. "No, baby. People cry for all sorts of reasons. It's a chemical reaction in our brains, remember?"

"Oh." Shelby says, still a bit confused but trying to understand. "So- wait, why is papa crying?"

"Because of you all." Patrick sniffles. "Because I love my family so much, I can't keep it all inside."

Sandy and Bobby (who is still holding Shepherd) herd in on him for a hug, and Shelby, who hates being left out of anything her parents are doing, jumps down from the table and joins. Sandy hoists her up so she's lever with everyone else; she had been adamant that at nine years old her daughter was too old to be picked up anymore, but she figured this was a special occasion.

The group hug splits and Patrick composes himself, though he can feel his spouses eyes on him through the rest of breakfast. Afterwards, he helps Shelby put together an outfit for the day, does her hair, and yes, makes sure she brushes her teeth. At 7:30 on the dot, she puts her shoes on and ties them by herself, bouncing towards the door. Sam and Shepherd have been put down for their morning nap, so in a few minutes when Sandy and Bobby leave to take Shelby to school and then head off to work, he'll be free to start tidying up from breakfast, his least favorite task of the day. He secretly wishes they boys were older so they could keep him occupied in the mornings.

"Alright, you be good today, okay?" Patrick kisses her forehead, and she beams up at him, and he melts. 

"I opened the car door for you, why don't you go hop in?" Bobby gestures out the door towards the garage. "Mommy and daddy will be there in a minute."

"Bye papa! I love you," Shelby waves and skips out the door, dissapearing inside the garage.

Sandy watches her until she's certain she's in the car, then faces Patrick. She takes his cheek in her hand, and her wedding rings are cool on his cheek. "We love you so much, you know."

"You make  _us_ so happy." Bobby adds, and oh no, Patrick's gonna start crying again.

"Seriously. You're the best husband, the best father, the best-best friend..." Sandy tells him, and he swears he sees her eyes shining there for a second, too. "I could go on."

"You're our hero." Bobby concludes, and they each kiss him on the cheek before they head down the driveway, as they know as well as he does that another moment of this will send them all over the edge.

Before they reach the garage door, Bobby whips around to shout "I love you!", and Sandy turns, too, to yell "I love you, too!"

"I love you two, too!" Patrick shouts back, and, satisfied, his husband and wife retreat into the garage hand in hand.

So, yeah. Patrick Star is the luckiest guy alive, even if he does have to load the dishwasher and wipe down the table every morning. It's a small price to pay for such a prize.


	7. seven minutes in heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey have you guys seen the sbbway easter bonnet because im crying

To call it a ‘fixer-upper’ was an understatement. The apartment was small, the decades-old pale pink paint was peeling off at the crown moulding, there was no dishwasher or laundry machines, the wooden floor creaked and the sink and bathroom faucets ran with all the mighty power of a slight drizzle, but Patrick had bought it, cash on delivery, it was  _ his,  _ and that really mattered to him. He always knew he couldn’t crash on Bobby’s couch forever (though he had an indefinite standing invitation), but having a place to call his own, his own key on his keychain, felt surreal to Patrick, in a weird, but not necessarily unpleasant, way. 

The party had, naturally, been Bobby’s idea. Patrick had protested right off the bat, but Bobby had promised it would be the smallest of affairs, not even classifiable as a party- just them, Sandy, and maybe Edward he could could pull himself away from his NPR socratic talks long enough to bear the ‘kids’ he neighboured. Honestly, Patrick would have just preferred he and Bobby sitting on the thrifted couch watching netflix on his laptop (he didn’t have a TV yet), a bag of doritos and 2 litre bottle of coke between them, but his best friend had looked so earnest, so excited at the prospect, and who was he kidding, Patrick couldn’t deny him anything.

So, he tried to tidy up the apartment as best he could, put on his one good shirt; a pale pink button up acquired for his co-op board interview, even set out a bowl of M&Ms. He was becoming a bit more comfortable with the whole idea when Sandy showed up, looking casual, and Patrick instantly regretted the attire. She laughed and assured him in her southern drawl that he looks fine, great even. He still complains to her of feeling overdressed, like some kind of poser, trying to appear more put-together than everyone knows he is.

And then Bobby showed up, followed by a gaggle of college freshman. Apparently, he had been tasked with the responsibility of keeping an eye on his boss’s daughter, who, at the mention of a ‘get together’, had invited along what seemed like a good percent of the Bikini Bottom Community College student body. Bobby had apologized shyly, smiling as earnestly as he could muster. Patrick wants to roll his eyes, but Bobby looks so much like a kicked puppy and he knows he can’t be mad, and  _ god damn it  _ could he please stop looking at him with those huge eyes for five fucking seconds so he could figure out what to do next. But the second he stands up and walks away, Patrick is all  _ no please come back I want to be near you at all times  _ and he feels pathetic.

At least he, too, is wearing a button-up, leaving Patrick feeling less like a sore thumb. He sports a bowtie, too, that’s something of a weird comfort, because it means that Patrick is no longer the most overdressed person here.

So, this can definitely be considered a party.

He’s leaning against the kitchen wall, observing- the Church of Being Obnoxiously Loud in a Small Space has congregated in the living room, and Bobby is lingering halfway between them and Patrick, trying, as always, to pay them equal attention, because he fears his boss’s wrathful protection of Pearl as much as he wants to please his best friend. Sandy has all but disappeared, and that’s having an effect on both of the boys; she can usually serve as a buffer, the voice of reason, but she’s probably left already, overwhelmed by the stench of totally-not-Mikes-Hard-Lemonade-and-weed.

“Party games!” Someone calls, and the partygoers cheer, wordessly assembling into a circle; they’re no strangers to this ritual. Patrick really does roll his eyes this time. He’s about ready to pack it in, to shut himself in his bedroom and let whatever is gonna happen happen outside. But one of the twenty-year-olds shouts in the direction of him and Bobby, telling- not asking- them to join.

“No way.” Patrick scoffs, not even bothering to hide his annoyance.

“C’mon,” Pearl tugs at Bobby’s pant leg, youthful face playfully pouting. “Don’t be boring old people.”

And that, for whatever reason, strikes Patrick as a challenge. He and Bobby, mid twenties, are not old, not in comparison to, say, Edward, who’s pushing fifty and has embraced it, and certainly not in comparison to these kids, who are no more than four years their junior. He swallows down the last of his ginger ale and strides over to the circle, unfortunately getting pulled into a spot a few seats away from Bobby.

A scruffy-looking boy stands in the center of the circle and announces that the game of the night will be Seven Minutes in Heaven, and Patrick instantly feels sick. But he’s prideful, he can admit that, and so he frustratedly drops his puka shell necklace into someone’s backpack to be pulled out by some lucky guy or girl. He doesn’t have a closet, but they decide that the bathroom will do in it’s stead.

“Who goes first?” Someone asks.

“I nominate Bobby!” Pearl cries, and the room bristles with excitement, and Patrick realizes that Bobby’s known Pearl, and by extension her friends, since they were young, and most of them have probably grown into a hearty crush on him. Now the whole ‘inviting people to a party that’s not hers’ thing makes a little more sense, and it’s clear that Pearl is probably trying to earn some kind of Popularity Points by giving them a vehicle to interact with him. Something about this disturbs something deep in the pit of his stomach, like sediment at the bottom of a lake.

Bobby humbly takes his place in the centre of the circle, uncomfortably but politely dipping his hand into the bag and pulling out the object that will seal the next seven minutes of his future. Everyone watches with baited breath, and Patrick can only imagine the things going through the minds of the teenage girls-  _ please pick me, please pick me.  _ It’s not without a horrific punch-to-the-gut type feeling that he realizes that that’s his thoughts, too.

His ears start ringing, because, almost triumphantly, Bobby is holding up his necklace, and the tension in the room relaxes a bit, though he can feel Pearl looking between them like she’s waiting for them to fuck on the spot. On the one hand, he’s relieved, because he gets to escape to the privacy of the bathroom with his best friend rather than some drunk stranger, but on the other hand, if there’s anything the past few minutes have illuminated, it’s that Patrick is harboring some pretty fucked up feelings regarding the redhead who stands in front of him, hand outstretched.

Once they’re in the bathroom, Patrick falls onto the edge of the tub, an exasperated sigh coming out on it’s own accord.

“I’m so sorry, buddy.” Bobby starts up immediately. “I didn’t think I could turn Mr. K down, and I had no idea this would get so out of hand, and I-”

“It’s not your fault.” Patrick looks up at him, mustering a smile to show he means it. “You were just doing what you thought was the right thing.”

They’re disturbed by a voice coming from the tub, behind the shower curtain. “Uh, boys?”

Patrick pulls back the curtain to reveal Sandy sitting in the tub, her legs and arms crossed, head leaning against the tile.

“Explain?” Patrick asks, because at this point he’s really too overwhelmed for cushioning his point.

“It got wild out there.” Sandy snorts sarcastically. “I’ve been taking refuge in the bathroom at parties since high school.”

Bobby joins patrick on the lip of the tub, and they both swing their legs inside, so they’re all three facing inwards. “We thought you left.” Bobby says.

“Nah. I just needed to cool down, you know?” Sandy shrugs. “I would never just up and leave without tellin’ y’all.”

“How long do you think we can hide out here?” Bobby wonders.

“I’d say eight minutes tops, before they come breaking down the door to catch us in some ludicrous act.” Patrick snarks. “Probably use the fridge as a battering ram if it meant more drama.”

“I’m still really, really sorry.” Bobby scoots closer to patrick, hangs wringing themselves in his lap. “I know you’d never want something like this for a housewarming. All I wanted to do was to give you a good housewarming, and I was on my way when Sandy texted me and told me to change, so I whipped back home real quick, and Krabs caught me at the intersection halfway. I didn’t think I could say no.”

“Wait- you what?” Patrick directs this at Sandy, who, for all her bluster, looks sheepish.

“You seemed real uncomfortable getting dressed up, but I really thought you looked nice. So I texted Bobby, asked him if he’d be willing to up the ante a bit, because we all know our boy doesn’t mind being the center of attention.” She giggled, putting a hand on Bobby’s knee. “Thought… I dunno, I thought it’d make you more comfortable.”

Patrick absorbs this for a second, and he blanches, because this information, this admission of kindness, takes him in a way he doesn’t recognize, and if the fight or flight response had an equal, opposite counterpart it would be this.

“Uh, thanks.” Is what he mumbles out, though there’s so much more he wants to say, to both of them- this night may have started out a shitshow, but it looks like things are getting somewhere. Where somewhere is remains to be seen.

“We’re probably running out of time.” Sandy says in lieu of ‘you’re welcome’, because it’s obvious she hadn’t expected to have her good deed revealed. “I think we should get going, lest we be the subject of Monday morning’s college rumors.”

Patrick doesn’t want to, but he’s not completely opposed to the idea, so long as these two are by his side. Their proximity makes any idea seem good, worth it, so long as they’re all together. And this feels very profound, like an idea he should hold onto.

They help each other out of the tub, and Sandy and Bobby, making for the door, pause when they hear Patrick ask them to hold on. He remembers his very profound idea, and armed with that knowledge, he feels confident enough to kiss them, first Bobby, kind of intense, the culmination of everything he’s realized tonight, then Sandy, a little softer, more tentative, exploring this new idea.

“I’m really glad you guys are here.” Is all he can say as a wave of heat hits his face. The pair in front of him look at him, then each other, then back at him, smiling. Bobby takes his left hand, and Sandy takes his right, and together they head out into the party, and Patrick’s not entirely sure of what all this means anymore, but he’s majoring in the select field of Getting His Hopes Up, and he has a feeling he’s not going to be let down.


End file.
